Self-deception and the American way of life: a review of Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11
By Cecily Cornelius White, Psy. D.
The most powerful artillery in the armory of the human being lies not in our AK-47s, our tanks, nor even in our air-strike bombers. The deadliest weapon we have, which allows us to kills thousands of innocents and justify it under the guise of “fighting for freedom,” is our capacity for self-deception. It is this self-deception that allows our eyes to remain comfortably closed to the suffering we, as silently assenting Americans, inflict on our fellow humans, both domestically and internationally.
Michael Moore's most recent triumph, Fahrenheit 9/11, forces a wedge into those closed eyes and pries them open, if only for a few moments, to the horrors that our government and our media have designed, and that the American public has agreed to accept in the name of patriotism.
This self-deception in which we so readily engage is a comfortable friend to us, one with which we are well acquainted. It is the same tool that allows us to quietly commit suicide in our overuse of tobacco, alcohol, and drugs. It is the cloak that allows us not to see how we help to murder our own children through fast-food-induced diabetes and obesity. And it is the veil that encourages us to continue sabotaging our planet through our use of billions of disposable diapers each year, simply because we are too lazy to research the innovations in cloth diapering. Yes, we are frighteningly familiar with self-deception, because we do it every day. It is the American way of life.
Moore 's film attempts to debunk much of the propaganda that has led to the patriotic fervor following the 9/11 attack, propaganda which Bush's regime has used to justify countless unnecessary deaths. In methodical detail, this film traces the path of the Republican agenda in the silencing of individuals wishing to speak out against power abuses, and in the creation of a nation of fear. It demonstrates how the mixed messages offered by the government and media have perpetuated the American need for a hero, and how the puffed-up image of George W. Bush was then offered to us on a silver platter as that hero. Throughout, Moore artfully interweaves the inevitable scent of money and business interests that have corrupted American policy and fueled the increasingly unbelievable actions of our government.
As we watch the film, it is difficult to accept that this is our country, America , which has committed these atrocities. The glaring light of truth engages an immediate and pressing need to sink back into our comfortable blanket of self-deception and tell ourselves that this shame, this horror could not possibly belong to us. “It isn't true,” “He's making it up,” we tell ourselves. We may even find a way to ignore the swarms of fact-checkers and supportive documentation that Moore employs in making his case. What we cannot ignore, however, are the compelling and painful images of the suffering, bleeding, lifeless bodies of children and families that have died at our hands. One soldier, interviewed for the film, acknowledges that to kill another human being is to “lose a piece of yourself.” As I examined, through Michael Moore's eyes, the horror that every one of us Americans have condoned, I began to realize that it is not just the soldiers taking those lives and giving their own lives, it is each one of us. I began to feel pieces of myself dying.
Moore tells the story thoroughly, honestly, and with a conviction that is not hindered by fear of the existing power structure or the status quo. His view is far from impartial, and it is understandable why he has been criticized for being harsh on President Bush. However, given the leniency the media has shown Bush thus far, and the number of very obvious connections which “investigative journalism” has failed to investigate, it is also clear that Moore's critique of the Bush administration offers a much needed balance to the depiction of events surrounding 9/11 and the war in Iraq.
As I left the film, I found myself firmly convinced that it is our capacity for self-deception that has allowed us to depart so dramatically from our natural tendency toward human compassion. I hope that I am right in this belief, for perhaps we can recover our humanity by simply waking up. For if I am wrong, and we actually have entered into this utterly avoidable tragedy with our eyes wide open, then we have crossed a line between good and evil. And if we have done so, then the statement given by an elderly Iraqi victim who lost her home and family was true, and only God can avenge that evil. I pray I'm right.
(Cecily Cornelius-White is an assistant professor of Psychology, Sociology, & Social Work at Texas A&M International University .)
