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           Posted on 29-11-2004 
                                 
                 Smoking While Iraq Burns 
  
Its idolisation of 'the face of Falluja' shows how numb the US is to 
everyone's pain but its own 
  
by Naomi Klein, November 26, 2004, The Guardian* 
  
Iconic images inspire love and hate, and so it is with the photograph of 
James Blake Miller, the 20-year-old marine from Appalachia, who has been 
christened "the face of Falluja" by pro-war pundits, and the "the Marlboro 
man" by pretty much everyone else. Reprinted in more than a hundred 
newspapers, the Los Angeles Times photograph shows Miller "after more than 
12 hours of nearly non-stop, deadly combat" in Falluja, his face coated in 
war paint, a bloody scratch on his nose, and a freshly lit cigarette 
hanging from his lips. 
  
Gazing lovingly at Miller, the CBS News anchor Dan Rather informed his 
viewers: "For me, this one's personal. This is a warrior with his eyes on 
the far horizon, scanning for danger. See it. Study it. Absorb it. Think 
about it. Then take a deep breath of pride. And if your eyes don't dampen, 
you're a better man or woman than I." 
  
A few days later, the LA Times declared that its photo had "moved into the 
realm of the iconic". In truth, the image just feels iconic because it is 
so laughably derivative: it's a straight-up rip-off of the most powerful 
icon in American advertising (the Marlboro man), which in turn imitated 
the brightest star ever created by Hollywood - John Wayne - who was 
himself channelling America's most powerful founding myth, the cowboy on 
the rugged frontier. It's like a song you feel you've heard a thousand 
times before - because you have. 
  
But never mind that. For a country that just elected a wannabe Marlboro 
man as its president, Miller is an icon and, as if to prove it, he has 
ignited his very own controversy. "Lots of children, particularly boys, 
play army, and like to imitate this young man. The clear message of the 
photo is that the way to relax after a battle is with a cigarette," wrote 
Daniel Maloney in a scolding letter to the Houston Chronicle. Linda Ortman 
made the same point to the editors of the Dallas Morning News: "Are there 
no photos of non-smoking soldiers?" A reader of the New York Post 
helpfully suggested more politically correct propaganda imagery: "Maybe 
showing a marine in a tank, helping another GI or drinking water would 
have a more positive impact on your readers." 
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Yes, that's right: letter writers from across the nation are united in 
their outrage - not that the steely-eyed, smoking soldier makes mass 
killing look cool, but that the laudable act of mass killing makes the 
grave crime of smoking look cool. Better to protect impressionable 
youngsters by showing soldiers taking a break from deadly combat by 
drinking water or, perhaps, since there is a severe potable water shortage 
in Iraq, Coke. (It reminds me of the joke about the Hassidic rabbi who 
says all sexual positions are acceptable except for one: standing up 
"because that could lead to dancing".) 
  
On second thoughts, perhaps Miller does deserve to be elevated to the 
status of icon - not of the war in Iraq, but of the new era of 
supercharged American impunity. Because outside US borders, it is, of 
course, a different marine who has been awarded the prize as "the face of 
Falluja": the soldier captured on tape executing a wounded, unarmed 
prisoner in a mosque. Runners-up are a photograph of a two-year-old 
Fallujan in a hospital bed with one of his tiny legs blown off; a dead 
child lying in the street, clutching the headless body of an adult; and an 
emergency health clinic blasted to rubble. 
  
Inside the US, these snapshots of a lawless occupation appeared only 
briefly, if they appeared at all. Yet Miller's icon status has endured, 
kept alive with human interest stories about fans sending cartons of 
Marlboros to Falluja, interviews with the marine's proud mother, and 
earnest discussions about whether smoking might reduce Miller's 
effectiveness as a fighting machine. 
  
Impunity - the perception of being outside the law - has long been the 
hallmark of the Bush regime. What is alarming is that it appears to have 
deepened since the election, ushering in what can only be described as an 
orgy of impunity. In Iraq, US forces and their Iraqi surrogates are no 
longer bothering to conceal attacks on civilian targets and are openly 
eliminating anyone - doctors, clerics, journalists - who dares to count 
the bodies. At home, impunity has been made official policy with Bush's 
appointment of Alberto Gonzales as attorney general, the man who 
personally advised the president in his infamous "torture memo" that the 
Geneva conventions are "obsolete". 
  
This kind of defiance cannot simply be explained by Bush's win. There has 
to be something in how he won, in how the election was fought, that gave 
this administration the distinct impression that it had been handed a 
get-out-of-the-Geneva-conventions free card. That's because the 
administration was handed precisely such a gift - by John Kerry. 
  
In the name of electability, the Kerry team gave Bush five months on the 
campaign trail without ever facing serious questions about violations of 
international law. Fearing that he would be seen as soft on terror and 
disloyal to US troops, Kerry stayed scandalously silent about Abu Ghraib 
and Guantánamo Bay. When it became painfully clear that fury would rain 
down on Falluja as soon as the polls closed, Kerry never spoke out against 
the plan, or against the other illegal bombings of civilian areas that 
took place throughout the campaign. When the Lancet published its landmark 
study estimating that 100,000 Iraqis had died as result of the invasion 
and occupation, Kerry just repeated his outrageous (and frankly racist) 
claim that Americans "are 90% of the casualties in Iraq". 
  
There was a message sent by all of this silence, and the message was that 
these deaths don't count. By buying the highly questionable logic that 
Americans are incapable of caring about anyone's lives but their own, the 
Kerry campaign and its supporters became complicit in the dehumanisation 
of Iraqis, reinforcing the idea that some lives are expendable, 
insufficiently important to risk losing votes over. And it is this morally 
bankrupt logic, more than the election of any single candidate, that 
allows these crimes to continue unchecked. 
  
The real-world result of all the "strategic" thinking is the worst of both 
worlds: it didn't get Kerry elected and it sent a clear message to the 
people who were elected that they will pay no political price for 
committing war crimes. And this is Kerry's true gift to Bush: not just the 
presidency, but impunity. You can see it perhaps best of all in the 
Marlboro man in Falluja, and the surreal debates that swirl around him. 
Genuine impunity breeds a kind of delusional decadence, and this is its 
face: a nation bickering about smoking while Iraq burns. 
  
· A version of this column was first published in The Nation 
  
      
	    
                  
                   
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