Atrocities of Proximate Censorship

by Beth E. Wilson, March 26, 2008

According to curator Brian Wallace, the basic premise of “Intimacies of Distant War,” now on view at the Dorsky Museum at SUNY New Paltz, was to bring together work by a number of artists “addressing the often surprising intimacy of what is frequently depicted as a war that is taking place a long, long way from home.” Ever since the shocking images of Vietnam were ushered into American living rooms nightly by Walter Cronkite, it’s been something of a commonplace that the modern media era has connected us in ways previously unimaginable in human history. Yet in the current conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, it seems we’ve chosen to turn away as the war on terror drags on—the spectacle of the latest story on Britney Spears’s meltdown or Paris Hilton’s latest stunt seems to attract much more attention than the depressingly same-old, same-old news from the “war on terror.”

As we spend so much time distracted by the constant stream of infotainment, those in power wield the terrible power enabled by our apathy. The artists in the Dorsky show are doing work that seems all the more necessary, as it brings personal perspective and thoughtful engagement—through art—to focus our attention on these crucial (if seemingly distant) realities.

As I was preparing to write this column, a new and related story popped up at the last moment, ironically bringing home some of the more unsavory, unsettling, and decidedly Orwellian implications of the war on terror in general, and our seemingly unending engagement in Iraq in particular.

On Wednesday, March 5, Iraqi-born artist Wafaa Bilal (who teaches at the prestigious School of the Art Institute of Chicago), was to open an exhibition of his latest project, “Virtual Jihadi,” at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (RPI) in Troy. The work is a video game, twice removed from the widely marketed “Quest for Sadaam.” Al Qaeda spun off its own version of the game online, as “The Night of Bush Capturing,” in which the goal is to capture (and kill) the president. Bilal hacked the al Qaeda version of the game, inserting himself as the jihadi/avatar, who learns of his brother’s death in Iraq (something that happened to Bilal in real life), and is subsequently drawn into the extremist sect. According to the artist, the work is meant to bring attention to the vulnerability of Iraqi civilians to the travesties of the current war and racist generalizations and stereotypes as exhibited in games such as “Quest for Saddam,” along with vulnerability to recruitment by violent groups like Al Qaeda because of the US’s failed strategy in securing Iraq.

Based on nothing more than the rumored content of the show, the College Republicans at RPI posted a statement on their blog accusing the art department of providing “a safe haven for terrorists.” The day the show was to open, Bilal was meeting with a class of art students at RPI, when he was abruptly pulled out by RPI officials, who informed him that the show would not open, and ultimately issued a public statement that cited two characteristics of the work: “that the exhibit is derived from the product of a terrorist organization; and second, that the video game is targeted to and suggests the killing of the president of the United States.”
Even though the FBI has not expressed any direct interest in questioning Bilal or in shutting down the exhibit, the administration of RPI (led by notoriously autocratic President Shirley Jackson) has censored the work, thereby preventing any free exchange of ideas that it may have provoked.