The Language of Truth

Whether you’ve tuned in to NPR on your drive home from work or surfed through the wave of corporate media on TV, you’ve probably heard about this whole “Ground Zero Mosque” scandal.

The conflict has polarized Americans in the mist of an already heated midterm election year, galvanizing Tea Party candidates, and even some incumbent Democrats, to denounce the construction of an Islamic community center in lower Manhattan. The building, called Park 51, is funded by the Cordoba Initative, a group that aims to bridge relations between the Muslim and Western worlds in an attempt to foster peace, understanding and acceptance.

Ironically, the group’s mission to eradicate stereotypes and promote intercultural growth has generated a wave of unspeakably cruel anti-Arab and anti-Muslim sentiments across the country. U.S. citizens have demanded the center be moved somewhere else to respect those who were killed on 9/11 “in the name of Islam,” a decidedly false claim. The architects of 9/11 planned their attack as an unequivocal response to foreign policy and American hubris. This goes without question given the overwhelming evidence:

Osama bin Laden threatened Americans for years before the 9/11 attacks, criticizing our military presence in the Middle East and perhaps most notably, our unconditional relationship with the state of Israel – a diplomatic stance that many Arabs believe has compromised our ability to facilitate any legitimate peace processes between Israel and Palestine.  Of course, none of this very accessible, very well documented history is imprinted in our historical memory, with U.S. citizens still using “al-Qaeda” and “Taliban” interchangeably.

As a result, a huge slice of our country still believes Islam inspired the attacks, rebranding the religion that dates back thousands of years as a modern product of Middle East barbarism – one that threatens the lives of Americans and hates us “for our freedoms,” to quote former Imperialist-in-Chief George W. Bush.

But what angers me the most about this entire debacle is the language used to guide our thinking: Ground Zero Mosque.

The phrase remains unquestioned by most media outlets and pundits, whether they openly support or disavow the center. But nothing about this besmirched structure relates to the name it’s been given.

The building is not a mosque; it’s an Islamic community center. And while areas for worship are certainly included in the blueprints, the building is meant to house and support individuals interested in learning about the Islamic community and how they, as non-Muslim Westerners or otherwise, can find common ground.

Calling it a “mosque” engenders a mass misconception of what is really being fought for, especially considering the presupposed pigeonholing Americans already engage in against Islam.  The word mosque is understood as an exclusively Muslim construction – one that is an adjunct to Islam. We don’t see this as a community center whose goals include solidarity for a free and loving nation. 

More specifically, the geographic relevance of this building is equally trivialized and manipulated through emotional connotation. By prefixing the already incorrect “mosque” with “ground zero,” we encourage ourselves to displace the building from its actual location (two blocks away from the original WTC); suddenly this so-called "ground zero mosque" is at the same place where 9/11 rescue workers once stood and Americans perished (including many Muslim- and Arab-Americans).

Referencing the site as a construction “on”,” “in,” or “right by” ground zero, none of which are true, compels us to judge the proponents of the center as insensitive attention-grabbers. Why build it at ground zero? There are many other locations, aren't there, we ask? "Come on," was the thoughtful argument of House Minority Whip Eric Cantor (R-VA). 

However, this building is being built a few blocks from ground zero, not on it. And the geography is irrelevant, anyhow. Mosques are being built in rural Tennessee and the west coast, and they have received as much scrutiny and resulted in as much impassioned bigotry as their NYC counterpart. Clearly, there are stronger roots to dig out here, and they aren’t connected to a specific location.

In the end, you’re allowed to decide whether or not this Islamic community center is an acceptable risk. I believe those who are fighting for the building know they have to put themselves in such a dangerous position with sound preparation. The discrimination against Muslims takes place invariably all across the country, and is not inextricably linked to New York.

Therefore, Muslim- and Arab-Americans may realize they require the support of those who understand their right to exercise the first amendment. This challenging goal may have been inconceivable had they kept their “mosque”-building efforts in the Mid-West, where hatred was abundant but extensive support was scarce. I have to give the Cordoba Initiative credit for trying to gain as much help as possible, albeit in order to do so they had to pursue a controversial undertaking that has exacerbated and amplified the irrational hatred and ignorance of many Americans.

Again, you make the call on what you think this construction means or whether it’s fitting. But calling it the “ground zero mosque” is a misappropriation of language. This phrase yields nothing but extremely unsophisticated and uneducated notions of what the group behind it hopes to achieve, and what’s actually being built in the first place. This is not a “ground zero mosque” proposed to disrespect those who were lost in the name of insidiously crafted foreign policy. This is a significant opportunity for Americans to admit their prejudices and collaborate with Muslim- and Arab-Americans on the ways in which they can cultivate a stronger community within the U.S. and around the world.

On Strangers & Stereotypes

The other day, one of my favorite aunts (an unapologetically sarcastic woman who once told me to “shake my titties” while dancing to Shakira at my sister’s wedding) took me on a pleasant drive to Denver, where she dropped me off at the light rail station before I headed off to my internship.

During our 20-minute-long journey, we managed to cover an array of subjects not uncommon for a dialogue between two members of the Zivalich clan: Grandma Z. and her grumpy yet charming demeanor, the weather of Colorado and its predictable inability to follow any kind of meteorological patterns, and more.

Perhaps the most intriguing topic on which we elaborated, however, was my aunt’s younger nephew who is developmentally disabled and lives on his own in subsidized housing, working for a “go-green” recycling company that pursues sustainable waste initiatives.

My aunt discussed extensively the kind of struggles her nephew went through, including his parents who abandoned most of the challenging responsibilities that came with raising a child with mental disabilities. By the time our short conversation ended, my aunt concluded with deep sympathy for her nephew and his current living situation.

“It’s not his fault,” she admitted. “He didn’t have enough support.” While her nephew is doing well now, my aunt knew that the obstacles he had to face would have been alleviated or eradicated completely in some cases if he had a stronger network of helping hands.

I nodded in agreement and we both acknowledged that at least with the support her nephew has now, he has a future brighter than many other developmentally disabled individuals in this country. My aunt even expressed her discontent with the fact that many people with mental challenges end up homeless in incessant poverty, which interestingly enough signaled the end of our poignant discussion.

Less than ten minutes later, as she prepared to drop me off at the RTD station, we both noticed a homeless man with a sign by the intersection, asking for money to buy food. The sign noted that he was “recently homeless.”

“Yeah right, buddy,” my aunt sneered, “from the looks of it, you’ve been homeless a looong time.”

Although my aunt did not explicitly reference any displeasure with this particular man, her tone came off as condescending and disdainful; she seemed to express an opinion, albeit perhaps subtle, that ignored this man’s unknown personal history. She laughed off his sign as if it were so obviously outrageous.  

True, she did not engage in a tireless rant about “personal responsibility” or anything of the sort, but she seemed to disregard the homeless person as a human with legitimate concerns and in need of assistance. This happened despite the fact that we had recently wrapped up a conversation on her nephew and how many individuals with needs akin to his end up poor and often homeless when they are left without a fortified support system.

This incident made me question the way we treat others with respect to outside perspectives. In our personal world of tight relationships and collections of memories, it is easy to disown the stereotypes, disassemble the glaring judgment society may cast down upon the people in our lives, because we know the people with whom we interact well enough to reject such trivializations. When someone touches our lives, they remain with us forever (as cheesy as that sounds), and so, as in the case with my aunt’s nephew, she was able reconcile her previous understandings of how people may end up in poverty-stricken cycles. She knew people like her nephew were out there, and how difficult it was for him to make it to where he was–with the unwavering support of my aunt and uncle.

Yet all of her gradually completed steps to personal enlightenment seemed to fly out the window when it came to this homeless man on a street – a man about whom we knew nothing. Again, she mocked his sign, his physical appearance. He was nothing but another bum.

But how could my aunt criticize this homeless man? She immediately discredited his sign, yet did she ever ask him if he ever had support? Why did he end up on the streets of Denver, recently or ten years ago? How did someone whose life, in some ways, may have been comparable to the harsh reality her nephew survived, become an external afterthought – a person who we could jokingly critique as if we had the authority to evaluate them however we pleased?

My conclusion is a complex one: I wonder why we sacrifice our sympathy, respect and understanding of friends and loved ones when it comes to strangers and unfamiliar community members. As people who collaboratively sew the fabric of this nation’s culture, I think we need to be able to accept that the personal is not only political, but applicable, too. When we break traditionally cemented conceptualizations of what a person’s life might be like because of a trait or circumstance – be it socioeconomic status, race, sexuality, whatever – we never apply that experience to the unfamiliar. 

We know that we can never fully understand the life of another person, but how can we render their experiences worthless or irrelevant, when we haven’t met them, haven’t asked them questions? They could be coming from the same page as someone you know, relatively speaking. And whether or not they are, if you didn’t know them personally, does that mean their life is not worth the challenge? Could you muster up the the reconciliation you may have achieved in order to accept a relationship or friendship that confronted preconceived notions or culturally-embedded labels for a complete "stranger?"

You tell me.  

GOP: Gender Orientation in the Primaries

The corporate-sponsored game of political campaigning for mainstream party candidates has always been a rough-and-tumble process. Ad hominem one-liners and manipulated information are coupled with black-and-white imagery to paint an opponent unfavorably while conveniently eclipsing any real critique or understanding of their policies and experiences.

When Colorado Republicans select a candidate for their party’s senatorial ticket on the August 10th primaries, however, the question isn’t your usual “how ugly is the campaigning,” but rather, “how man enough is Ken Buck?”

According to his conservative competitor Jane Norton, the most questionable characteristic worth our scrutiny has nothing to do with politics, leadership or policy: Masculinity is the trait in doubt.

 

Norton’s now locally infamous campaign admonishes Ken Buck for allowing a “shady” interest group to do his bidding against Norton in campaign advertisements. “You’d think Ken Buck would be man enough to do it himself,” she scoffs.

The claim is a disturbing reinforcement of the cultural notion that men and women must behave in certain ways, and that men more specifically require an ambiguous level of “enough” manly behavior to qualify as “real” or “authentic.”

Not only does this gender association in political campaigns strengthen the division between "acceptable" politics for male or female candidates; it also distracts us from what’s really going on, anyhow.

Like racial bias and culture wars, normalizing particular attributes as “manly” ones aids the effort to blind politically disengaged U.S. citizens from the transparent connection between people like Buck and Norton, whose commitments to capitalist orthodoxy and limited social safety nets more accurately describe their political efforts and how they will be translated in Washington – certainly more than “man enough” endeavors. Let’s be honest, there are important issues in the upcoming election – issues that take precedence over this kind of childish quarreling. 

We should, in fact, condemn Norton’s accurate statement that she reduced spending while working for the Health Department – including cuts to Planned Parenthood, effectively curbing the necessary funds for free or inexpensive breast cancer examinations.

Additionally, Coloradoans should ask all politicians in Washington why hardly anybody is advocating for cuts to military spending – the massively over-funded recipient of our government’s discretionary income that comes with a $693 billion dollar price tag to fund and exacerbate three unjustified, inhumane wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan.

Unfortunately, instead of examining these very real, very important issues, Coloradoans are afforded nothing but petty bullying in the name of “being a man.”

It is this need to polarize and define behaviors and objectives by gender, and then unabashedly hold individuals accountable if their own conduct does not match predetermined molds of gender, that upsets me the most.  

Norton does not criticize Buck for certain policies because they are products of corporate control, explicit inattention to social impact, or other reasons to render a decision bad.

Buck has failed in Norton’s eyes because he wasn’t “man enough.”

As a result, the Norton-Buck debate conveys the message that our gender can be inadequate. Men might not meet the standards of masculinity and when that inability shifts to the political realm, we are subjected to yet another form of cultural coercion – one that entices us to judge men on a spectrum of masculinity, rewarding those who make it to the top.

Never mind that this entire debacle on who fulfilled what gender fate disillusions us from the impending conflicts and current devastations in our disastrous economic and political systems. Or that it doesn’t even include women in the equation and consequently assumes male power is the only potent and useful kind in the world of Congressional character.

Please, bring democracy back to the forefront of political debate and inform your fellow citizens that in order to find candidates representative of our ideas, values, ideologies, opinions and political sentiments, we should be focusing our energy on something else – something that isn’t indicative of Ken Buck’s “manhood,” as if the elusive concept is something we can calculate or discredit after watching a few minutes of mudslinging.

Sex and the Muslim City: A Review

New York’s favorite four women of upper-class privilege and material indulgence have returned for a second helping of licentious adventures in romance, traveling and unforgiving product placement in "Sex and the City 2," the latest movie based off the popular HBO series.

In the sequel to 2008’s blockbuster hit, Samantha (played by the eternally fabulous Kim Catrall) takes her gal pals on an all-expenses paid trip to Abu Dhabi to pursue a job offer in the growing UAE hotel industry. Throughout their trip to what Samantha questionably dubs “The New Middle East,” the ladies of Manhattan embark on a mildly enjoyable romp complete with cultural insensitivities, hints at the superiority of Western-White Feminism and, of course, plenty of puns and sex.

Once the quartet of friends arrives in Abu Dhabi, they are luxuriously spoiled by the nation’s finest hotel. Although this is not necessarily new to a show that's always told one socioeconomic narrative of women's lives, it isn’t much of a plot, either.

Most of the movie simply showcases the girls’ extravagant stay at the opulent and highly exoticized hotel. As guests, they barely attempt to learn about the UAE or its culture (other than Miranda, who seems to only do so to gratify her rigid, type-A personality), and prefer to eat fancy breakfasts and shop to maximize some kind of tourist self-fulfillment. As a result, the stereotypical idea that all Americans (particularly American women) are greedy shopaholics and cultural imperialists whose main ambitions include material comfort and familiarity is only strengthened and reinforced.

Furthermore, when the girls aren’t relaxing at the hotel’s pool or calling for their individually assigned butlers, they are often mocking the Muslim culture for comedic effect. Samantha, while told several times by Miranda to wear less revealing clothing and discuss sexual matters less explicitly, continues to flaunt her understanding of what is appropriate behavior without even considering the cultural barriers she has crossed. She constantly forgets to cover her cleavage, makes out with a man in public, and even stares at a woman eating French fries under her veil as if she has found the most unusual animal at the zoo. In general, she flat out ignores the cultural norms of her current home of hospitality.

The other women of the Empire State don’t seem to fare much better. At one point, while having a discussion about why men are intimated by powerful women in the U.S., Miranda claims American men “want us eating French fries under our clothing, too,” rendering the Muslim culture inferior. None of the film’s stars recognize, at least not legitimately and respectfully, the cultural importance of maintaining a private sexuality in the Muslim world. Even when cautioning Samantha for her inexcusable ignorance, the group seems to collectively assume that Muslim women are, comparatively speaking, less free.

True, later in the film the ladies meet a bunch of Muslim women who reveal their beautiful clothing underneath their religious attire, providing them an opportunity to admire, not condemn, these women of another culture. However, instead of trying to understand why Muslim women wear such clothing and what that might mean for their multiple cultural identities, Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte gawk foolishly and are suddenly able to relate via similar interests for high fashion and Suzanne Sommer’s literature on menopause (the Muslim women seem to really like the same things as them; they just kept them hidden). It’s as if the movie’s conveys a message of the Westerner in all of us – particularly in women – just itching to get out and breathe that “freedom.”

Eventually, in a painful-to-watch performance, this inability to cross-culturally communicate culminates in Samantha throwing a handful of condoms up in the air at an Arab market during the call to prayer when her bag breaks and screaming “I HAVE SEX” at the top of her uneducated lungs.

Unfortunately the worst part about this scene isn’t that Samantha has yet to be punished for her outrageous behavior; she’s subsequently kicked out of the hotel. Samantha seems to have paid for her indelible insensitivity. No, the worst part is that when the film employs such methods of cultural ignorance as tools of humor, the significance of each character’s Americanized and Westernized stupidity is lost almost entirely.

In the end, "Sex and the City 2" is like most sequels out there – much worse than its predecessor. In addition to focusing on glamour and visual eye candy rather than story structure or character development, the movie seems to equate a complete disregard for cultural constructs of femininity, feminism and female sexuality with humorous misunderstandings and silly mistakes.

"Help" for Haiti

More than a dozen celebrities – musicians of all types, shapes and genres – came together recently to recreate Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie’s famous song “We are the World." The emotionally charged ditty was written several years ago as a collaborative effort among superstars in the music business to funnel money into “Africa.”

Now, the sequel version (same title; different people) has been utilized to inject feelings of hope and goodwill into wealthier nations in the spirit of “helping” Haiti, the small Caribbean nation that was destroyed by a devastating earthquake in January (Translation: apparently we saved “Africa” so let’s move on to our next victim of unquestioned, unconditional charity).

At this point, you may be wondering why I use quotations for words with which we are all familiar and do not often render controversial, such as “Africa” and “to help.”

Firstly, Africa is an entirely separate story on its own, but to summarize quickly, I find it disturbing when we talk about one of the largest, most diverse, culturally pluralistic continents in this world as one homogenized place – a mass of land where we assume one form of lifestyle takes place in a particularly specific fashion and all governments are inherently corrupt as citizens wallow in self-pity and poverty. Trust me, that is a very different, much longer, even more complex narrative – one I’m still trying to figure out myself. So that’s for another time.

Let’s get back to that second, more loaded word: help. What does it mean to help? Does a song that yearns to connect us to the rest of the world truly afford the full perspective we need to understand Haiti’s current situation? Can we even entirely fathom the Haitian experience without the cultural and political tools necessary to access authentic comprehension?

Well, no, we can’t. However, even if we cannot holistically witness the devastation, damage and outright horror Haiti’s inhabitants incurred, we can try to understand – and critique – our own nation’s response to the “natural” disaster.

Historically speaking, we should have learned by now that intrusive invasions, even if supposedly welcomed for “humanitarian” relief, are often capable of exacerbating intact conflicts and do not often operate in the most reasonable manner.

In fact, the whole concept that Haiti needs us (U.S.) to help rebuild and revitalize an area that was mostly economically and culturally marginalized to such an extent because of wealthier nations’ exportation of capitalism and “democracy” is dauntingly overwhelming and hedonistic, to say the least.

Why is that every time a disaster occurs in a country, we find it our duty to lead a helping hand? Is alleged altruism as noble as we often perceive it? What’s morally obligatory about aid dependency and red-tape soaked non-profit groups that promote the title of their organization over efficient assistance?

The answer lies in the way in which we perceive ourselves. While we sing songs of hope and shove three wrinkled $50 bills into an envelope, we relax with a sense of self-imposed happiness. We feel we have made a difference, helped the Other who has had a less fortunate time than we have had. Truthfully, we have experienced sadistic sentiments at their most cleverly subtle stage.

In other, less dramatic words, rather than allowing Haiti to grow internally and proactively, and to take advantage of this undesirable situation as a means to increase national growth and a spirit of local ownership, the United States and America-friendly countries invade with medical supplies and nonperishable food items to maintain some false sense of heroism and eradicate any opportunities for Haitians to self-govern development, change and sustainable management. 

Furthermore, do we really think our generous donations are going to supplant the economic framework necessary for survival in the modernized world (albeit it a negative reality, in my opinion)?

Understandably, Haiti needs help. But didn’t it before an earthquake with the magnitude of a giant? News reports from corporate media networks like CNN continue to emphasize that Haiti was one of the poorest countries in the Caribbean.

However, I have two responses to such guilt-trip techniques:

A)   The perspective of what constitutes a weak economy is only established and supported by Western economic theories that pervade the globe.

B)   Haiti needed the same supplies and items we’re gushing to provide immediately before now, so

What’s the difference?

The difference is we discovered Haiti for a moment. The news graced us with coverage of a nation that we typically wouldn’t otherwise recognize because its economic contributions to the globalized world are minimal, and we temporarily acknowledged it as a salient issue among all fractions of government, culture and human beings themselves.

In truth, you probably don’t really care about Haiti. Your money probably won’t do much of anything under the conditions of economic and global constructions preventing Haiti from the kind of stance you may imagine it has in store for the future. Until economic motivations and applications are re-rooted, Haiti will remain in its current place - absent from the maps in our self-designed geographic perspectives, voiceless in global politics, less useful in an extensive and expanded capitalist society than other nations, and low on our list of priorities.

Today, Haiti is still in ruins of all kinds, and although some of us may feign interest to support our façade of a caring nature, most of us have moved on to Tiger Wood’s licentious addictions, plane crashes in Austin for which the media has refrained from using the word "terrorism" because the perpetrator is white and non-Muslim, and health care summits where the ever-dualistic Democratic and Republican parties can debate an issue they will never resolve with necessary, concrete action.

Thus, my last question (I know, I have many but I've never understood the rhetorical taboo behind a plethora of questions) stems from the end of this song -  “We are the World” – the last few lines, which are repeated, include: “Haiti needs us. They need us. They need us.”

Do they?

Terrorable Coverage

Predictably, the mainstream media continues its characteristic commitment to the two-week-long coverage of one story, rarely offering dynamic and diverse insight or analysis. This time around, the focus seems to be on Umar AbdulMutallab, the young Nigerian man who allegedly attempted to blow up a plane during the Christmas season, and what the Department of Homeland Security has done (or did not do well enough) to protect Americans from similar incidents.

Yes, from the tax-hating, third-rate sarcasam of FOX's staunch conservatives to Rachel Maddow's every witty, ever-liberal stabs at anything anti-Obama, news correspondents and analyzers will not shut up about conterterrorism and what our president has to say on the subject.

But in all honesty, are any of them - or any of us, for that matter - really saying what we need to be saying? How productive do we think we are by expressing the same sentiments, the same dualistic approaches to debate over and over and over again until our mouths quit in exhaustion?

Here's the scoop, as I see it: terrorism, at least, the terrorism we're taught to fear and label here in the United States, is one of the few items in this world still manufactured by Americans.

As I've repeated before, supported by the writings, ideas and arguments of several authors, professors and other individuals who have influenced me, the U.S. can often be held partially responsible for the terrorist attacks it has endured in recent history.

On top of the United States' role in cultivating terrorism, we often react to threats from a well-rehearsed, limited perspective. Every time a potential terrorist threat develops, U.S. citizens, including those covering the news, rely on recycled arguments that typically render tighter security, a greater presence in foreign countries, and the adominshment of either the Republican or Democratic Party (depending on which is the majority in Congress) as appropriate methods toward the reduction and eventual eradication of terrorist attacks.

Of course, it never seems to cross the minds of those who are involved to question the roots of these issues. Rather than trying to figure out why an individual might join al-Qaeda or why an organization such as al-Shabaab emerges and matures in numbers as often and successfully as it does, we adhere to the time-honored falsehood that additional regulation or protection suffices, ignoring what ignites and inspires terrorists in the first place.

And oh yes, aren't we comfortable identifying people as terrorists, albeit their personal circumstances, backgrounds, and motivations may differ profoundly? As Americans seem to see it, terorrists are terrorists, and nothing more - a dangerously pervasive mentality that avoids all other factors and undermines the situation in discussion entirely.

Simultaneously we are inefficient and uncomfortable in discovering the roots of terrorism or how those in charge of the country can begin to replant these roots in foreign policy and international relations. Labeling triumphs learning.

Color-coordinated warnings that indicate levels of potential terrorism, a new person to facilitate security measures, or any other superficial, temprorary modification is not going to convince anyone with strong convictions against America's imperliaistic challenges to turn the other cheek.

It may seem like an idealistic rant, but I wholeheartedly believe what I am writing speaks to some truth. People do not attack the U.S. because our security is not as adept as possible. They attack us for their reasons - reasons to which we do not dedicate enough time and energy into understanding. If we did invest more in the origins of terrorism and anti-Americanism across the globe, our endeavors would likely yield more positive relationships between cultures, countries, and citizens alike.

True, I'm not the most fruitful person myself; I can't change the United States' monstrous behavior with a single blog post. However, I am documenting this not only because it is something for which I am incredibly passionate, but also because I would like to remember how angry, upset, and hurt I am by my country. Perhaps it will serve as a future incentive to galvanize my own politically charged self and do something about this when I have access to the same resources, or at least the valuable help, that many politicians and newsgathering persons do have today and refuse to proactively utilize for the benefit of our national and global communities.

Avatar - Great Film, Controversial Themes on Cross-Cultural Communication

After posting a criticism on the sexist, undeserving Box Office champion from last November known as New Moon, I realized how much I really missed writing film reviews.

Not only that, but I also never really realized how much more meaningful and personal film reviews can be when I write them in a context beyond the scope of plot or essential filmmaking qualities. New Moon's impeccable parallel to the problems with anti-Feminst rhetoric today helped me understand the film on a deeper level - as something that exists not only as one small piece of a mass media puzzle, but also as an indicator of cultural values and tensions.

Accordingly, I have revisisted the same process with the most recent blockbuster toward which I contributed nine bucks: Avatar, James Cameron's latest indulgence in visual effects and action-packed romance.

Avatar generally emulates the plot structure of films about cultures of "The Other," like Disney's Pocohantus: culture with bad intentions invades Other culture that wasn't doing anyhing to them. Boy from culture with bad intentions meets girl from Other culture. Boy learns from this more exoticized, "spiritual," nature-worshipping culture about life. Boy and girl fall in love. Cultural interactions end in tragedy and death for many, with a fairy tale ending for some.

Quite frankly, Avatar is, as most seem to have agreed, an excellent film. It is well paced, hypnotically alluring (with or without the immersive 3-D atmosphere) and overall, successful in its ability to entertain spectators.

However, in addition to talented editing and astonshing technology, there are bundles of profoundly relevant themes one could take away from Avatar that its well-endowed budget could not provide.

Avatar demonstrates how universally destructive interactions with cultures can be. Although many have argued the film illustrates a redundant and recycled theme with no original interpretation, Avatar manages to refresh us with ideas that are so significant, we cannot ignore them.

No, I'm not referring to any war in a distant country in which our nation has diplomatically, economically, and militarily invested. Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq do indeed exemplify the types of situations to which Avatar alludes; however, they do not afford the full picture of what Cameron's story truly symbolizes.

The scientists in the film who attempt to mimic a culture through physical avatars is equally representative of the problematic ways in which countries invade other areas of the globe without a conscious effort to preserve, understand, or respect the cultures they are studying.

These scientists, portrayed as protaganists, or at the very least, as foils to the antithetically depicted military personell, are just as guilty as their myopic foes, but seem to go unpunished and act unrealized. Why is the military, with their guns and political inferences, painted with such patently nefarious motivations, when their counterparts in the film - scientists encouraging the trivialization of an entire culture by recreating its members' physical apperances - are reduced to a neutral state at which they are neither the heroes nor villains? Don't the scientists require a moral obligation to review their actions, too? Interactions that operate under assumptions of cultural hubris or the "right to study" do not exist within some heirarchy of ethical standards; an invasion is an invasion, whether it's with test tubes or bullets.

To be fair, I think the movie is worth seeing. Still, I do think it's interesting how Avatar incorporates real global issues into its nearly three-hour-long span while escaping some valuable critiques on human history and international relations. So-called "humanitarians" and "peace-keeping" scientists of exorbitantly wealthy nations that lead experiements and research in foreign lands are sometimes brutually unwelcomed and can dismantle cultures as effectively and efficiently as any military or greedy corporation.

Overall, Avatar is a fantastic film. As I said, it strictly follows guidelines for great filmmaking and does not seem to fail in any explicit way. Nevertheless because the cultural understandings and subtle implications of films' conclusions are often left unnoticed, we cannot hold Cameron or the film itself fully accountable for its failure to develop and criticize discourse on cross-cultural communication. It's a part of an extensively muted dialouge, which is why I am pointing it out to you today.